


This Feeling Down Deep in My Soul

by gremlins-came-and-got-me (Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dead Hales, Emissary Alan Deaton, Emissary in Training Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Mates-Fic, Mild Angst, werewolves are known
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 02:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15160736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark/pseuds/gremlins-came-and-got-me
Summary: When Derek’s control goes haywire, Laura hires Stiles Stilinski to help out. Only one problem: Derek’s control stopped when he ran into Stiles literally a week earlier.





	This Feeling Down Deep in My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [aqua-ref](http://aqua-ref.tumblr.com/) for the [beautiful art](http://aqua-ref.tumblr.com/post/175536809184/my-part-for-sterekreversebang-with-1989dreamer) that inspired this story.
> 
> Big thanks to my Beta TLM who is still not in the fandom but came through with a clutch read-through for me. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Thank you to the mods for running this event again.  
> (I am sorry I ended up being more of a headache than usual, and thank you for your graciousness in dealing with me.)
> 
> The title comes from Stuck on You by Lionel Richie.

~ * ~

Derek meets his mate on a Thursday morning when he hasn’t had enough sleep or caffeine to be rightfully called “awake.”

Of course, Derek doesn’t realize that it’s his mate when he walks into him and ends up with a face full of caramel macchiato and flailing limbs.

“Sorry,” the man apologizes, digging into the messenger bag at his side and thrusting a pile of napkins at Derek.

Derek wants to say that it’s okay, and that it was probably his fault, but the first whiff of the man in front of him, with his spiced scent underneath the sugar and medication clinging to his skin, makes Derek’s head spin, and he loses his words to a bitten off growl.

“Whoa,” the man says. “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Derek shakes his head, pushing past the man, ducking his head to avoid those burnt amber eyes and bowed mouth.

“’m fine,” he manages to mutter…seven blocks later.

Laura laughs at him when he enters the backroom, changing into a scrub top immediately and using some of the tea tree shampoo they keep on hand. He wrinkles his nose at the pungent smell of peppermint that still isn’t enough to cover up the sugar-spiced smell from the man.

“What are you trying to hide?” she asks, poking at him with a sharp nail. Derek shrugs her off and goes to check on Lucille, a Rottweiler who just had puppies.

“I will find out what it is,” Laura threatens.

Derek growls at her to get her to back off, only it scares Lucille and her pups and she bites him.

He pulls back with a yelp and then glares at Laura when she starts laughing again.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been so bad with animals, huh?” she mocks. “Go check on the cats. I’ll calm Lucille.”

Derek tries to shrug it off, but stepping into the cat room is even worse. On a good day, none of the animals in there like him, except a goofy fluff-ball, named Empress of all things, but he’d grudgingly won their respect over months of treats and playtime. However, today, Derek gets one foot in the door and a cacophony of hisses and snarls picks up.

“Derek!” Laura yells.

He lets the door shut and turns to face her. “What?” he demands.

“Go check on the lizards.”

Derek’s shoulders slump. The lizards are fine, but to be sent there is to be outcast from the rest of the store. It’s not that people don’t like lizards. Derek likes lizards. He has three at home. But, most people would rather cuddle a cat or pet a puppy than a lizard.

At least the lizards seem ambivalent toward Derek’s off-day, and one of them sympathetically licks his finger. Except, that was coffee. He’s still semi-covered in the drink, and it makes his skin crawl.

He tries to ignore it, washing his hands a dozen extra times throughout the day.

~ * ~

The next morning isn’t any better when he goes to the same coffee shop and sees the same man standing out on the sidewalk, phone against his ear, to-go mug being waved as he squawks and gestures.

Derek about-faces and marches away before the man can see him.

Laura sighs when he sneaks in the back again.

“What happened today?” she asks, not unkindly. Derek doesn’t know what is wrong or that anything happened, so he settles for glaring at her. She smacks the back of his head. “Go back to the cat room. And change your sour disposition.”

Derek doesn’t bother responding. He can’t even open the door to the cat room without the animals hissing and growling, batting at their cages. He backs away and jerks his thumb toward the door. Laura sighs.

“We can’t have that keep happening,” she says. “Try the dogs.”

The dogs aren’t any better, even when Derek issues orders subvocally, the way they understand them. He trudges back to Laura still healing a dozen bites.

She winces and points at the lizards.

~ * ~

Derek spends the next week feeding the lizards while Laura sighs and groans when she has to change the litter pans or clean up dog puke.

Finally, she calls him into her office. Derek fully expects to be let go. What good is he to her when he can’t be around any of the other animals? Just yesterday, he’d tried giving the birds water only to be assaulted by a frenzied parakeet.

It’s because every day since Thursday last week he’s run into the man at the coffee shop. And not always at the coffee shop either. Just yesterday, Derek had been running to work, bypassing the block with the coffee shop on it entirely and he’d still managed to mow over the man.

At least he’d seemed good-natured about it when Derek explained he couldn’t stay, he was late, he was sorry, here’s his sister’s business card in case the man needs someone to pay medical and he wants to sue Derek.

The man had laughed and Derek had continued to work, and now he was sporting several peck marks after enduring the most awful glare-off he’d ever had with his sister since her pre-threading days.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that things are changing,” Laura begins, and Derek steels himself. “The animals absolutely hate you right now.” Derek nods. “That’s why I’ve decided to hire someone to help out.”

“I’ll clear out my desk,” Derek says.

Laura frowns at him. “Why would you do that?” she asks.

Derek shrugs. “So the person you hire will have somewhere to put their things?”

“But you’ll still need your desk.”

“You’re not firing me?”

Laura blinks, fingers twitching as she stares at him. “Why,” she says, slowly, almost angrily, “would I fire you?”

Derek shrugs again. “Because I’m basically useless?” he offers.

Laura jumps over her desk and lands in front of him. “You are not useless,” she snarls through fangs. “You’re my second, and you’re my brother. You’re just having a bad week and the animals can sense it. That doesn’t mean I’m going to fire you.”

“Mom would have,” Derek mutters.

Laura glares at him. “Mom wouldn’t have,” she says, without room for discussion. “The business is still successful.”

“Mom didn’t want me working here because I lose control too easily.” Derek points at the cat room. “I can’t even step foot in there anymore. It’s not going to get better. Even the lizards are getting less amendable to me cleaning their cages.”

“Derek, you’ve had perfect control most of your life. I mean, I know I struggled with my shift when we were young. You never had that trouble.”

“Because I worked really hard on it.”

“That means it’s still in there.” Laura sighs, patting at Derek’s chest. She started doing that when he was fourteen and taller than her. It makes him smile even if he still feels wound up. “Look, we’ll get to the bottom of why you don’t have as much control as usual, and when we fix it, all the animals will love you again.”

“If you’re sure,” Derek says.

“I am. Go on, go find something to do that won’t end up with you more injured. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you aren’t healing as well as you should.”

“I’m fine,” Derek insists, hiding his hands behind his back. “I can do the order?” he offers.

Laura waves him away, already poking at her laptop.

Derek isn’t sure if he feels relieved or not to still have a job, but what he does know is that he needs to work on his control and he can’t do that if he keeps running into the man from the coffee shop.

He needs a different path to and from work from now on.

~ * ~

Derek finds his alternate route, but he doesn’t think it’s any better. Instead of going through downtown, he cuts through the cemetery. He tries to avoid the corner where his family, eight relatives dead in a fire when he was in high school, are at rest, but sometimes he stops by just to read their names again.

His parents, his uncle, an aunt, cousins. His younger sister.

He’s right that his mom would have fired him. She was all about efficiency, and there was no room in her pack for Derek who was not quite a beta and would never be an alpha. Cora had actually been in training to be Laura’s second before the fire.

Laura remembered Mom more fondly than Derek did, but that was because she’d worked with her more throughout the years.

Derek still pays his respects and moves on.

The animals settle, probably because they can sense that he is grieving harder now, and he stops getting bitten near as often. Laura says she might pull the ad for help if he can continue to improve his control. And then everything goes to shit again.

Laura interviews exactly one person to help out in the store and it’s the coffee-shop man.

Derek learns two things. One: his control is completely gone because even Samantha, the oldest and most docile lizard at the store bites him. And two: the man’s name is Stiles.

Stiles sees Derek and carefully sets a full mug of hot coffee down on the counter beside him. Then, he steps around the counter and waves at Derek.

“Hi,” he says cheerily. “I’ll be shadowing you today.”

Derek shoots a look at Laura. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asks his sister. Stiles looks confused.

“You are training me, right?”

“You’ll be fine,” Laura says. “Stiles is actually really good with the animals.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I have the touch,” Stiles says. “Usually it’s the opposite. I can’t pet a dog without it growling at me, but just look at that momma pup. She loves me!”

Derek can sympathize. He’s so used to having the animals behave that these past two weeks have really worn him down. He sticks his hand out, and Stiles grasps it firmly. “Welcome,” Derek says with all the good cheer he can muster. It falls a little flat, but Stiles enthusiastically pumps his hand anyway.

“Looking forward to working with you…”

“Derek,” Laura supplies.

“Derek,” Stiles repeats. “I like your name.”

“Thanks,” Derek says. “I like yours too.”

Stiles beams at him.

~ * ~

Throughout the day, Stiles follows Derek around. The only downside to it so far is that none of the animals seem to like Derek any better.

They all flock to Stiles, even the lizards. Derek sulks in a corner, trying not to take it personally.

Really, all the animals are doing is proving his point that Laura should fire him.

“Hey, why’s this place just called _The Pet Shop_?” Stiles asks after a grueling bath for some of their waiting-to-be-adopted dogs.

Derek mops at a bloody scratch on his leg. “I don’t know,” he says. “My mom named it. I guess she thought it would be the only one in town.”

“It’s not?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs. “It is now, but when she started, there was a rival pet store across town. It was owned by the Argent family.”

“Wait. I think I’ve heard of them,” Stiles says. “Didn’t they get run out of town almost a decade ago?”

“Yeah.” Derek sighs, rubbing at the headache pounding behind his eyes. Since it’s not a life-threatening injury, his body opts not to heal it or the scratch. Derek glares at his leg. Stiles watches him with concern, and he sighs again. “It was rumored that they were involved in setting the fire that killed my family.”

Stiles snaps his fingers. “That’s what it was.” He offers Derek a sad smile. “For what it’s worth, and it’s not worth a lot, I’m sorry for your loss.”

Derek nods. “Thank you,” he says politely. He doesn’t like to dwell on his family’s murders, especially when he can’t actually prove they were murdered, but he appreciates that Stiles understands that platitudes are useless.

“So,” Stiles says, poking at the still unhealed wound on Derek’s leg, “what else am I supposed to learn from you?”

Derek draws his leg away from Stiles’ fingers, unnerved at the way his skin burns with a warmth not unlike basking in the sun. he checks the scratch and is surprised to find it closed. Unnerved, he stares at Stiles.

“I suppose we can go over how to file adoption paperwork,” he finally says when Stiles raises his eyebrows at him.

“Can’t be injured there.” Stiles taps the side of his nose knowingly. “Although,” he adds after a quiet second of reflection, “I’ve been known to hurt myself doing the most mundane things.”

Derek doesn’t believe him. There is a grace in his limbs that speaks to a natural agility and athleticism.

Stiles catches onto the paperwork quickly. That’s good. It makes Derek feel better about how useless he’s been for his sister lately.

If she does decide to fire him, then at least Stiles can hold the animals for her. Derek knows Laura doesn’t actually like working in _The Pet Shop_ , and she has been trying to work up to asking him if he wants to run it by himself.

Before this past week, Derek had wanted to. Now, he’s not so sure.

What if he never gets past this week? What if he can never learn to control himself around the animals again and they all keep attacking him?

Derek studies the ease with which Stiles lopes over to the bunny cages and plucks one of the Flemish Giant rabbits up into his arms. Derek can feel the scowl settling over his features. It’s not fair, he thinks bitterly.

The rabbits are his favorite after the lizards. He hasn’t gone near them all week because he doesn’t want them to bite him too.

Seeing Stiles handle the unofficially named Oliver makes something ugly twist inside his chest. Hot jealousy surges up his throat, and he turns away with a low growl.

Derek locks himself in the pharmacy closet until Stiles leaves for the day.

~ * ~

Laura fixes him with a disappointed stare when he slinks in late the next morning.

Stiles is already here with his overly-sweet coffee on the desk, half-drunk and a pen he keeps clicking.

“So you want me to start with the dogs and work my way around?” he’s asking.

Laura nods. “It’s what Derek does.”

Stiles looks up to catch sight of him, and Derek doesn’t understand why he shudders and slinks away.

“Did I do something to him?” he asks Laura, and she huffs.

“Maybe don’t act like he’s stealing your job,” she advises.

“But he is, isn’t he?” He flinches under the steely glare she levels at him. “I mean, I can’t help you, so why would you keep me around? You’ve got Stiles now. You don’t need me.”

“Derek, we’ve talked about this. You’re just having an off-week. Or an off-month. You’ll be fine. Get your head out of your ass and stop avoiding Stiles.”

“So what happens when a dog bites your very human worker because it can’t stand your werewolf worker?” Derek demands.

Laura pauses.

“See? What happens when one of the animals injures Stiles because I’m nearby? He won’t heal like I eventually will. I shouldn’t even be here anymore.” Derek studies Laura’s eyes, knows she sees the truth of his words. Softly, he says, “Mom wouldn’t endanger someone else just to prove a point.”

Laura’s eyes harden. “She also wouldn’t have fired you just because you can’t handle the animals. Mom didn’t hate you no matter what you think.”

“Okay,” Derek says. He can tell she hears the lie in his voice, but he doesn’t care. She didn’t see the way Mom was always disappointed in him. She didn’t have to listen to hushed conversations about what to do with him if he didn’t start pulling his weight in the family.

“I won’t avoid Stiles,” he tells her, and she looks marginally appeased at that. “But,” he adds, “I won’t approach him if he’s working with the animals. I don’t trust even the fish.”

“Fine. I’ll tell Stiles you’ll be less of a dick from now on.”

“Thank you.”

~ * ~

Stiles corners him a few hours later when Derek is trying to detach a fighting Betta from his fingers. Derek jerks and the fish bites harder.

“Laura says you promise to be, and I quote ‘not a complete and utter dickface,’ from now on.”

Derek growls, flicking the fish back into the tank. It got a solid bite and his finger bleeds freely while he turns to stare down Stiles.

“O-kay,” Stiles says slowly. “That’s a dickface.” He darts away, and Derek lets him go, rolling his eyes as he concentrates on healing the bite. It takes too long for his liking, and he rubs his fingers together long after it finally closes.

Laura sighs in her office. “I’m not being mean,” he tells her, still standing by the fish tanks. Laura sighs again, louder. “I’m not,” he insists. “I don’t get why this is happening. Maybe I should take a break for now?”

“I’m beginning to think that’s a good idea,” Laura agrees.

Beyond frustrated, and so tired, Derek rips off his apron, tossing it over a chair as he heads into the back to punch out. Laura follows him.

“Take a week,” she says. “Come back when you’re feeling better.”

Derek nods sharply. He pauses at the door, glancing back to find his sister and Stiles watching him warily. It hurts that he doesn’t feel trusted, wanted, or needed. It feels like his childhood all over again. He doesn’t have his dad this time though, and that stings maybe more than he cares to examine.

“I’ll be back,” he says, but it sounds perfunctory, like a promise he’s expected to make. Derek doesn’t know if he will be back at all and certainly not soon.

He lets the door slam shut behind him.

~ * ~

Bertha, Derek’s bearded dragon, is perched on the back of his office chair when he steps into his apartment. He smiles at her, toeing off his shoes and hanging his jacket on its hook by the door. He washes his hands before he picks her up, letting her nuzzle into his beard. She affectionately nips his chin, and he scratches under hers.

“Why don’t you hate me?” he wonders as he sets her back in her terrarium. José chitters excitedly, and Derek picks up the crested gecko.

“You don’t hate me either,” he tells him, and José snuggles into his palm before gently nipping him to let him know he wants down.

The last lizard, a blue tongue skink Derek likes to call anything but the name Laura gave her, rolls onto her back and lets Derek run a finger down her belly. “What’s up, Buttercup?” He gets a lick for his trouble. Henrietta, as Laura stamped onto her paperwork, rarely leaves her terrarium unlike José, who is an escape artist, and Bertha, who likes to sit on Derek’s shoulder when he reads.

Derek gets their foods out, a can of turkey shreds for Etta and dusted crickets for Bertha and José. Once the lizards have eaten, Derek settles in with a sandwich and a handful of chips.

He eats quickly, washing the dishes, and setting them down to dry. Then, he stares at his kitchen wall and wonders what he’s supposed to do for a week if he can’t go to work.

He can’t stay inside all that time.

Derek goes back to the living room and sinks down onto his couch. Bertha chirrups at him before scuttling up the side of her terrarium and climbing up his leg. She perches on his knee and fixes him with a beady gaze.

He scratches under her chin gently.

“Fine,” he tells her. “I’ll go see Deaton tomorrow.”

She nuzzles his fingers briefly before jumping off him and scurrying to the desk where she digs through the little sand garden Laura gave him as a gag gift last year. Derek watches her for a few minutes, wishing he could sort through his troubles as easily as burying his body in a hole and resting like Bertha.

Maybe Deaton can help with that.

~ * ~

Deaton’s long since retired from his veterinary practice, and it takes Derek a few minutes to track him down at a retirement resort where he now teaches tennis.

Deaton sees him coming and sets aside his racket.

“Derek Hale,” he says, tone neutral. Derek takes that to mean that he’s actually excited to see him.

“Dr. Deaton.”

“Just Alan now, Derek. What can I do for you?”

“You’re still my sister’s emissary, right?”

If Deaton is surprised that Derek knows, he doesn’t show it. “For the moment,” he says instead. “I am looking at fully retiring shortly.”

“But you’re still my sister’s emissary, and you have to advise her in matters she brings to you.”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly. I can’t promise that I can answer it satisfactorily.”

Deaton leads him to a couple of chairs against the court’s fence. Derek twists his hands together. How best to ask his question?

“Lately I’ve been having trouble with my control,” he starts.

“Shifting?” Deaton asks, studying him.

Derek shakes his head. “No. The animals in _The Pet Shop_ don’t like me anymore.”

“Hmm. Anything else? Eyes? Ears? Nose?”

“No, nothing. I can’t get close to any of the animals at the store, but I haven’t been shifting. I feel like I’m on the wrong foot all the time. Like there’s something happening but I’m too stupid to see what it is.”

“Not stupid,” Deaton disagrees. “More like you’re unsettled. What is new in your life?”

“My sister hired someone to help since I can’t be near the animals.”

“I see. And who is this ‘someone’?”

”Stiles,” Derek says. “He’s good with the animals.” He pauses, thinks of what Stiles said earlier. “Well, he says he’s not usually, but right now, anyone is better than me.”

“Does this Stiles recall when his ability to handle animals started?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Hmm,” Deaton says again. “I think you should.”

“Do you know something?” Derek asks. With Deaton, it’s best to be straightforward. He might not always answer in kind, but he is getting easier to read in his old age.

“I may,” Deaton confirms. “Give me at least a few days. Find out if Stiles can trace his newfound ability. You may be surprised at the answer.”

Deaton stands up and dusts off his pants. “If you excuse me,” he says, “I’ve got to get back to my lessons.” Derek nods, sticking his hand out for a quick shake. Deaton smiles. “I’m sure you’ll find all the answers you’re looking for if you just ask the right questions.”

Derek reigns in his snort. Of course Deaton thinks it’s that simple. Maybe for him it is.

For now, what Derek needs to do is catch Stiles. Preferably away from both the animals and Laura.

Stiles likes that coffee shop. He’ll meet him there before he goes to work.

~ * ~

Stiles sees Derek coming and hurriedly sucks down the rest of his coffee. It must be too hot because he winces and swallows several times. Derek rolls his eyes, reaching out to grip Stiles’ wrist to pull his pain.

Stiles stares wide-eyed at him. “Don’t kill me,” he says plaintively.

“Why would I do that?” Derek frowns at him, and Stiles stabs his index finger into his chest.

“That’s why,” he says. “You and your murder-brows.”

“Murder-brows?” Derek repeats dumbly, hand slipping off Stiles’. “What murder-brows? My eyebrows?”

“Whoa,” Stiles says, looking at his wrist and then sticking his tongue out, crossing his eyes as he tries to stare down at it. “What did you do to me?”

“I,” Derek begins, but Stiles pulls something out of his bag and hits Derek with it.

“What did you do to me?” Stiles demands again, hitting Derek with the object again.

“What are you doing?” Derek asks, grabbing it. It’s a little bottle that says _Veritaserum_. “Are you hitting me with a novelty _Harry Potter_ toy?” he asks, incredulous.

“No,” Stiles says, snatching it back. He uncaps it and throws the contents in Derek’s face.

They both blink at the white liquid that splashes over Derek.

“Aren’t you supposed to drink it?” Derek asks.

“Shut up,” Stiles says without heat. “Are you feeling anything? Any urges to answer truthfully?”

“What even is this?” Derek wipes some of it off his face. It’s tacky between his fingers. It feels grosser than the coffee did. “What’s this made of? Is it real or just imitation? Can you even make veritaserum in real life? Wouldn’t that just be Sodium Pentothal?” He realizes that he’s rambling, but he is helpless to stop it. He _never_ rambles. “Did you just drug me? Why would you even do that? It’s rude and inconsiderate! All I did was take your pain away. And you hit me! I didn’t hit you. Why do you even have this? Where did you get it? Did you make it? It’s incredibly potent.”

“Do you want to hit me?” Stiles sounds equal parts amazed and amused.

Derek shakes his head, scraping more of the gunk off his face. “This is so gross,” he tells Stiles. “You really should make it easier to clean off. I mean, honestly, it’s really kind of cool that you have this stuff. Especially if you made it yourself. This feels homemade. Is it homemade?” Why can’t he stop his mouth? His brain is running a hundred miles an hour right now, and it’s taking his vocal chords along for the ride. “Damn it!” Derek glares down at the mess in his hands.

“What?” Stiles asks, and now he sounds completely amused.

“You did drug me,” Derek accuses. “Your truth serum worked.”

“Yes, yes it did.” Smug bastard. Derek ought to give his pain back just to wipe that smile off his face. “Uh, can you really do that?”

“Do what?” Derek asks.

“Give pain back. I mean, you just said that you should give it back to me.”

“I did?” Derek looks down at his hands and then to the bottle Stiles is still holding. “I think,” he says slowly, “that we need to go talk to my sister.”

“Are you going to get her to fire me?” Stiles asks.

Derek doesn’t answer. At least, he doesn’t think he does. He’s not really aware of what his mouth is doing right now. He wants his alpha, needs her. What if Stiles’ truth serum poisoned him? What if he used wolfsbane? It’s all over Derek, being absorbed by his skin, soaking into his nervous system. What if he dies from this?

He can’t help the whine that bubbles up in his throat.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Stiles says soothingly, running to keep up with Derek. “I didn’t use anything that could poison you, okay? I just maybe used a higher concentration of sodium thiopental and midazolam than the recipe called for.”

“You followed a recipe?!” Derek turns to face Stiles, forgetting that they’re moving at a good pace. Stiles crashes into him and they both go sprawling.

Derek doesn’t try getting up again, tired and burned out and _utterly exhausted_. Stiles lies next to him, head on his shoulder.

“You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?” Stiles asks quietly. “That’s why it kicked in so quick and why it only had to touch your skin. It’s also why you’re panting now.” He sits up, digging in his bag and coming up with a travel-pack of wipes. He gently cleans off one of Derek’s hands, avoiding the sharp claws tipping his fingers.

“When did I shift?” Derek asks through a mouthful of fangs.

“Dunno. When we fell, I guess.” Stiles wipes the other hand. “Can I do your face? The sooner I get the gunk off, the sooner you go back to feeling like yourself.”

Derek nods. Stiles slowly reaches out and drags one of the wipes over his mouth, where most of the liquid landed.

Derek focuses on Stiles’ scent. The sugar is from the coffee he drinks. The medication is none of his business, but the spiced tones make his head swim.

He likes the way Stiles smells.

“Hey, you shifted back,” Stiles tells him, grinning down at him. “Can you sit up?”

Derek can and does. He’s still panicky with his mind racing again, but when he looks at Stiles, he doesn’t see any amusement.

“I’m sorry for doing that to you,” Stiles says. “You surprised me when you did that thing.”

“I drew your pain out. I’m sorry. I should have asked first, but I thought you got hurt because of me.”

“When? With the coffee? Dude, it’s just a burned tongue. It’ll heal.”

“I _know_ that,” Derek says, frustrated. He bites his tongue to stop more words from spilling out. Even though Stiles cleaned off most of the veritaserum, enough must have gotten into his system because he still doesn’t feel better and he should have healed by now. “But sometimes it’s nice not to be in pain.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Stiles says. He studies Derek’s face and must see something because he lurches forward to wrap his arms around him.

“What was that for?” Derek asks him when he pulls back.

Stiles shrugs. “You looked like you needed a hug. Did you?”

Derek evaluates himself, aware that he’s muttering under his breath. Stiles looks amused when Derek decides that he did indeed need a hug and that he might like another one.

“Really, then? Okay, big guy, bring it in.” The second hug is even better because Derek is expecting it this time and he gets to sniff Stiles’ hair to see if that’s where he hides his spiced scent.

“I eat a lot of pepper?” Stiles laughs, patting at Derek’s cheek. “I don’t think I’m really spicy.”

“Not spicy,” Derek insists. “Spiced. There’s a difference. Spicy is like if breathing you in would hurt. Spiced is nice. Spiced is part of you.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, but Derek knows he doesn’t understand. It’s because he has a human nose, and human noses aren’t very good at smelling the different nuances.

“Dude,” Stiles complains, “nuanced _what_?”

“I’m still talking?” Stiles nods. Derek sighs. This sucks. “Your scent, what you smell like, it’s complex, layered. Everyone’s is. Sometimes it’s more so than at other times. It kind of depends on what you’ve been doing or where you’ve been.”

“And I smell spiced.” Derek wishes that Stiles would stop laughing at him. He liked it better when he was dumping coffee on him or running into him literally.

“I never dumped my coffee on you,” Stiles says, irritated. “I accidentally spilled it on you. I apologized and gave you napkins.”

“I know,” Derek says. “I appreciated it.”

Stiles pauses, staring at Derek. “We really need to get you washed up. The effects should wear off quickly once the substance is completely cleaned.”

“Okay, thank you,” Derek says. Laura has a shower for her workers in the back. Derek’s used it before. He likes it. He likes everything.

“Uh huh, buddy.” Stiles pushes him forward.

~ * ~

Laura looks up when they stumble in. Her nostrils flare and her eyes bleed red. Derek snorts a hysterical giggle. He hasn’t seen her look this worried or mad in years. Not since the deaths of their family. The thought sobers him, and he trudges to the back to take his shower. Never mind that he doesn’t have a spare set of clothes here.

He nods at Deaton as he passes and then backtracks when it registers that Deaton is here.

“Dr. Deaton,” he says.

“Alan,” Deaton corrects. He quirks an eyebrow at Derek. “What is that all over your face?”

Derek wipes at the residue. “It’s veritaserum,” he says. “Stiles had it. It makes me say the things I’m thinking about… I think. I need a shower.”

“I’d imagine so,” Deaton says. He has the same amused tone Stiles was using earlier. For some reason, it annoys Derek more than Stiles’ did.

He growls at Deaton’s back, and then flushes guiltily when the cats and dogs start hissing and howling. Laura shoots him a glare before she turns back to Stiles with an icy expressing. The change is jarring and prompts Derek to call, “Don’t kill him. I actually like him.”

“Of course you do,” Laura mutters, rolling her eyes. “Go, take your shower. Stiles and I will deal with the animals.”

Dismissed, Derek drags himself to the shower. He grabs a set of scrubs and strips quickly. He can hear his voice prattling on, but he doesn’t care to listen to himself. Whatever he’s saying is tiring, almost as tiring as being unable to help at the store.

He lets the water heat up and then tries to burn off the top layer of his skin, scrubbing and scrubbing until even his healing gives up.

Finally, fifteen minutes later, he steps out. He doesn’t bother drying off before he pulls on the scrubs. The material sticks to his skin, what’s left of it anyway. Unsurprisingly, he heals quicker when he’s not trying to skin himself.

The animals have settled and they barely react as he passes them on his way to Laura’s office. His stream of consciousness talking ended when he stepped into the water, and it feels safe to take the chair next to Stiles.

He leans toward Stiles and asks, “Why the chairs?”

“Dr. Deaton said he had something he wanted to tell us,” Stiles replies.

“Derek,” Deaton claps his hands, “you came to me yesterday with a question about your control. I have an answer for you.” He clears his throat, fixing both Derek and Stiles with an impassive stare. “Congratulations, you’ve found your mate.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Stiles squawks. “Mate?! What does that mean?”

“It means that there is a connection between you two. What you do with that connection is up to you since mates have evolved to be something quite a bit more ambiguous than when they were initially discovered.”

“And who decided this? What makes us mates?”

Deaton gestures between them. “Mates take on characteristics of each other. For example, Derek, in all the years I’ve known him, has always had exemplary control. You’ve admitted that you had trouble with animals before bumping into Derek sometime last week. What characteristic of yours do you think Derek has been emulating?”

“Uh. None. He seems just fine to me. I mean, aside from the animals constantly attacking him.”

“No,” Laura says. “He’s been more pessimistic lately.” She eyes Stiles critically. “Are you usually pessimistic?”

Stiles scrunches up his face as he thinks. “I’ve been described as such,” he admits.

“And how has this week been for you?”

“Oddly freeing. I’ve had more focus. I was able to brew the veritaserum easily when I normally would have had trouble with it.”

Laura slaps her hand down on her desk. “How do we make them go back to normal?” she demands.

“I’m not sure there is a normal anymore,” Deaton says. “If you met your other half, the person who could best complement you, would you ever want to give that up?”

“Right now, all I can see is my brother hurting. And you said it’s because he and Stiles bumped into each other. Un-bump them. Make them both whole again!”

Stiles raises his hand. “I have a question.” Deaton nods at him. “So, if we ‘complement’ each other, does that mean what we have is based on feelings or on physical attributes? Not gonna lie, if it’s physical attributes, I feel sorry for you, dude. I am uncoordinated on the best days.”

“You’re not the one who kept tripping into the other,” Derek retorts. “You have a natural grace, but you let yourself be beaten down into believing that you don’t.”

“You got that from a day and a half of knowing me?” Stiles asks.

“I don’t know how I know.” Frustration wells up, and Derek balls his hands, claws poking into his palms. “Why do I know that? How do I know that?” He looks to Deaton, and Deaton shrugs.

“While there is wealth of information available about mates, there is less known about how it affects individuals, especially since it affects everyone differently. Derek, if you feel very strongly that you know Stiles even if you don’t know him personally, that it is your connection to him. Stiles, do you have any facts about Derek that you know to be absolute truth without having heard them?”

Stiles purses his lips, shaking his head. He stops, frowns at Derek, and then nods slowly. “I know his mother loved him beyond a shadow of a doubt and that deep down he knows it, but it still feels like he wasn’t accepted by her. She named the store because of him.”

Derek looks to Laura to see if she has any response. She’s staring wide-eyed at Stiles, shock and awe on her face.

“That’s right,” she says, subdued. “Mom told me when I took over; she always meant for this to be Derek’s. She saw how kind and gentle he was with the animals in the preserve. She knew he’d be perfect for a job like this.” She turns to Derek. “Even if you never truly believe it yourself, listen to us: Mom loved you with all her heart. She had a hard time telling you when she was alive because you were so different from the rest of us. When we were play-fighting and rough-housing, you were repairing butterfly wings and planting flowers for the bees. _The Pet Shop_ was the closest Mom could get to you.”

“I used to overhear them,” Derek says. “Mom and Dad, talking about me. They were disappointed in me.”

“No, not disappointed in you.” Laura sighs. “Do you remember when Dad started woodworking? He used to ask you to help him.”

“Yeah.”

“It was how he connected with you. Mom didn’t have that same connection. You were too young for the store then.”

Stiles touches Derek’s knee. “They weren’t disappointed with you. They were disappointed with themselves.”

Derek grabs Stiles’ hand, twining their fingers together. “This feels sudden,” he says. “But it feels right. Like it was supposed to happen.”

“It was,” Deaton says. He stands up, gesturing to Stiles. “Laura, Derek, I would like to formally introduce you to your new emissary, Stiles Stilinski.”

“Hi.” Stiles waves using the hand Derek is still holding. “So, I’ve been training under Dr. Deaton for almost five years now, and I’m finally ready to take over so that he can retire completely.”

“Is this going to be an issue?” Laura asks. “What with them being mates?”

Deaton shakes his head. “I anticipate that both of them will settle wonderfully. Stiles needs Derek’s focus, and Derek needs Stiles’ impulsiveness. The whole point of mates is to complement each other.”

“And what about compatibility?” Stiles asks. “I realize this may be a little late, but what if we don’t get along?”

Derek pulls his hand free. Hurt, he turns to Stiles. “We get along.”

Stiles chews on his lips. “I’m not sure you don’t hate me,” he admits. “I did throw a substance designed to impede your inhibitions in your face.”

“Yes, but I drew your pain without letting you know that’s what I was doing.”

“Still, that doesn’t compare to what I did.”

“It sounds like you both need to apologize and then move forward,” Deaton says. “Compatibility will go a long way toward making your partnership beneficial but it’s not necessary right at first. Relationships don’t happen in an instant. They take time to grow.” He settles back in his chair and crosses one leg over the knee of the other. “Let me tell you about Talia and myself and our first meeting.”

He smiles at their intrigued faces and clears his throat. “Talia and I were in the same grade in school. We met when I moved to Beacon Hills in my sophomore year of high school. She was the popular jock. Good at everything she tried her hand at, kind to everyone. I admit, I disliked her just because I thought no one could be that perfect. She knew I disliked her. We butted heads, but she was never mean about it.

“So passed the next two years until senior year, I had no friends, no interest in making friends. Everywhere I turned it was still Talia-this or Talia-that. And then senior prom rolled around. I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to stand in a corner all night. Talia had any number of suitors that would have been willing to go with her, but she approached me one day and asked me. At first I was too proud to say yes. I thought she was trying to do a good deed for the day until I realized that not once in the years since I’d been here had she ever said a mean word to me.

“I found her at lunch the next day and accepted. We’ve been friends since.” Deaton wipes at his eyes. “Mates is not a romantic term. Yes, most mates are sexually compatible, but there are platonic mates. Talia and I were platonic. She gained my patience and I gained her compassion. It took years for us to actually be able to communicate, but we did.

“What you have is special, there is no doubt. Take the time to cultivate it. Let it grow. Be natural and borrow the gifts offered. Derek, use Stiles’ impulsiveness to strengthen your self-esteem. Stiles, use Derek’s focus to steady yourself. Bolster each other. If love happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, don’t force it. You are far more valuable to each other than that.”

Stiles and Derek exchange a glance.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, pulling his hand away. “I can’t. It’s all or nothing with me. I could have dealt with it if I kept thinking that Derek didn’t like me. Knowing that he does means I can’t just let it develop if it might.” He looks at Derek. “I know I’m ready to try a relationship. I have been ready for three years. I don’t know about you. Being mates has nothing to do with it. I’d be ready for dating even without this development.”

Derek thinks about it. Is he ready to date? He hasn’t for the last ten years since his family died because at first he was too busy grieving, and then when the pain had settled into something bearable, he was finishing school and helping Laura keep _The Pet Shop_ afloat, too busy for the trivialities of going out to find someone to spend time with. It was why he’d gotten his lizards, because, as Laura had pointed out three years ago, he was spending all his time at work.

Derek eyes Stiles appreciatively. He’s got a good build, strong shoulders, kindness in his eyes, the twist of his mouth indicative of a quick humor. Derek doesn’t doubt that Stiles has a cruel streak—if pushed, Derek has one himself.

“I’m not opposed to trying,” he says, and Stiles startles. It reminds Derek of the first time they ran into each other. Just, with less coffee.

Deaton looks absolutely delighted while Laura schools her features into a blank mask. It’s a reversal of roles that Derek does not understand.

“Are you not happy?” he asks his sister, and she shrugs.

“What if it doesn’t work out? Will Stiles still want to be my emissary when he realizes that to deal with me, he has to deal with you?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Derek says. “I thought you wanted me to be more open?”

“I did. I do.”

“But not at the pack’s expense,” Derek realizes, hurt. Stiles rubs at his chest like he can feel the pain that shoots through Derek’s heart.

“If that’s your attitude, then I don’t want to be your emissary anyway,” Stiles declares. “I’m sorry, Dr. Deaton, I know you worked really hard to train me.”

Deaton rolls his eyes, standing up again. “You are all being a dramatic bunch of assholes. Laura, just admit that you want nothing but for your brother to be happy. Derek, admit that you want to give something new a chance, that you’re ready for the next step in your life. Stiles, admit that you want the challenge of being with Derek while you’re his pack’s emissary. Admit anything and everything, but for the Nemeton’s sake, don’t repress yourselves in the misguided attempt to keep an even keel.”

With that, Deaton turns on his heel and marches away, throwing a careless, “Have a wonderful day,” over his shoulder as he goes.

Laura throws her hands up and slumps forward in her seat. After a couple of awkward minutes, she pops her head up and waves them out of her office. “Go have fun,” she tells them, slamming the door behind them. In a voice only Derek can hear, she adds, “Remember that I can smell _everything_ that you do.”

Derek doesn’t care. He takes Stiles’ hand again, unequivocally pleased when Stiles doesn’t pull away.

“Did she just give me the rest of the day off?” he asks.

Derek shrugs. “Sure sounded that way,” he agrees.

“Cool.” Stiles claps his hands together. “Let’s roll on out of here.” he tugs at Derek’s scrub top. “I guess you’d like to change out of this, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Your place?” From the glint in Stiles’ eye, Derek guesses that it’s a euphemism for something else entirely, kind of like how studying was the code word in high school and college, and now it’s something like “watching movies.”

He doesn’t care. Stiles’ impulsiveness is kind of fun. Besides, he thinks Stiles would like to meet Bertha, José, and Etta. He’s been pretty good with the lizards here. “Sure.”

“Really?” Stiles looks surprised, but then his face splits into a grin and he tightens his grip on Derek’s hand. “That’s really cool.”

“Are you going to tell me why you had the veritaserum?”

“Maybe eventually. For now, I’d kind of like to see just how compatible we are as mates.”

Before they can leave, Lucille comes up to them. Derek thinks she wants Stiles, and he lets go so that Stiles can pet her. She ignores Stiles’ outstretched hand and sits down in front of Derek. He reaches out, surprised when she licks his palm and then butts her head against it. She whines softly in her throat and then trots back toward the kennel where her pups are. Derek follows her, and she lets him coo over her babies for a few minutes before nudging into his hand again for more pets.

“Hey, the animals like you again,” Stiles says. It doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of Derek. In fact, it sounds like he’s happy.

“Do you think I’ll get to keep some of your magnetism?” Stiles asks. Lucille answers for Derek when she licks his hand and lets him scratch behind her ears.

“Maybe this mates-thing is the way to go,” Stiles says, smiling at Derek.

“Only one way to know for sure,” he replies.

Derek leans in. Stiles doesn’t pull away. They kiss. Soft, short, sweet.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, awed-sounding, “I think this is totally going to work."

Spoiler alert: It does.

~ The End ~

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted to [my Tumblr](http://1989dreamer.tumblr.com/).


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